


No flowers, my request

by LaGemini



Series: Constantly drowning [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Mycroft Appreciation, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft Holmes Needs a Hug, Mycroft Holmes-centric, Mycroft's side of story, Poor Mycroft, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaGemini/pseuds/LaGemini
Summary: There are several reasons you are here and me dead today. Firstly, it is Eurus. Sherlock, she would have let you pull that trigger, and I could not let that happen. So I offered myself....Finally, I always knew me dying on my own hand was my most likely way to go. I believe I managed to conceal it from everyone, but it is not a novel concept to me....Good bye,No flowers, my requestMycroft Holmes-----“He only apologized for Anthea and Lestrade." Sherlock whispered faintly. "He apologized for his suicide only to Anthea and Lestrate. To their loss. As if… as if remaining others won’t grieve for him.” Sherlock thinks he will definitely faint soon with the spinning of his head.TW: Suicide.Looking for a beta!
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes
Series: Constantly drowning [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825942
Comments: 28
Kudos: 284





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted an explanation of some things that didn't make sense to me on S4. I also think Mycroft should be appreciated a lot more than he did on the show, so this is ny version of Mycroft and S4.
> 
> Not an English user, so I am crossing my fingers for my grammer to be enough to convey my thoughts. Looking for a beta!

Sherlock pointed the gun on himself. Sherlock pointed the _gun_ on _himself!_

Mycroft panicked for a couple of seconds, wasting precious time needed to figure out what to do. The momentarily frozen brain filled with rushing thoughts once more as Sherlock’s countdown kept going on.

Current situation: Sherlock pointing the gun onto his head, likely betting on Eurus not wanting him to die. Will he follow through his _solution_ after the countdown is over? Unclear. Dr. Watson, shocked, but able to move. Indecisive, not knowing the way out of this due to the same situation they will be in even if he snatched the gun from Sherlock. Him, assessing the situation and trying to find a way out, body not necessarily recovered from panic contrary to his brain. Eurus, petulant about the situation, but not showing any signs of stopping Sherlock from shooting himself.

The last assessment brought him back to the situation. There’s no way out of this with everyone being more or less intact. Sherlock’s countdown reached five, still no signs of Eurus giving up. Decision made, he discretely eyed Eurus, nodding minutely as she stared back. Her whole face split into a truly vicious and triumphant grin.

Then, seeing the darts sticking Sherlock and Dr. Watson’s neck, his world faded into black.

=======

Exactly a month after the Sherringford incident, Sherlock was lounging on new couch in newly renovated 221B, extremely bored.

After a couple of hours of grumbling, – there is Rosie in the flat to do anything more drastic – he perked up at message notification.

_Sherlock, there’s an urgent matter that needs to be taken care of. Please come to my house immediately. Do not bring Ms. Watson, it’s not something for a baby. – MH_

_Too lazy to come here even with your designated driver? – SH_

_It’s a delicate matter. I know you don’t have a case now, Sherlock. Immediately, please. - MH_

“Greg?” John, who knew Sherlock was on the brink of going insane with boredom, asked.

“No, Mycroft. He needs us to come to his house.” Sherlock answered as he prepared to go out without further protest.

“His house? Well that’s a bit… odd, isn’t it?” John remarked as he went down to hand Rose to Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock only tightened his lips a bit as an answer.

Sherlock couldn’t help but feel that something is very wrong. John seemed to be uneasy with the situation as well. Evidence A: his constant fidgeting in the backseat of taxi.

“Sherlock, he… did not get fired, did he?” John finally broke the tense silence after halfway through the journey, and Sherlock turned sharply to him.

John raised placating hands in defense at the glare. “Well, what do you want me to think? He didn’t contact you, me, Greg, or Mrs. Hudson for a month. I asked them after two weeks of radio silence. I noticed that every single CCTV stays put even if we go out. He didn’t visit even once after renovation, contrary to him checking on you once a week before. And now he is calling us to his house instead of his office or something. This is not about some case because if it was, you would have said so.” John finished listing his reasons with a slight worry toward Mycroft.

Now that was a slight surprise to Sherlock as he thought there were no love lost between Mycroft and John. Other than that, John is getting observant. He knew John caught him staring at immobile CCTVs. He even discretely asked Lestrade if Mycroft smoothed things on Scotland yard for him as Mycroft usually does, which he apparently didn’t after Sherringford. Lestrade must have told John.

But he was sure of one thing. “No, Mycroft has not been fired. Anthea would have contacted me if he were. He knows too many secrets all over the world to simply be fired.”

“You mean…?” John’s face went white at the implication.

“He must have contingency plans after plans, but yes, if he was fired, Anthea would have let me know. But Sherringford won't impact his position that much anyway. He’s too irreplaceable for them to consider it over something like this. He most likely would have to attend several meetings and parties he otherwise would’ve avoided.” Sherlock does know that, so this feeling of dread must be nothing more than not wanting to do what Mycroft wants him to do.

They reached Mycroft’s house in silence after that, and rang a bell. The sound disrupted the stillness of the house and nearby neighborhood.

Sherlock frowned as no one came to the door. It’s not like Mycroft to stall after calling him over an urgent matter. He tried to ring once more when a few more cars arrived.

======

Mycroft heard the bell just as he put down his finished letter on the bedside table. He smiled a little fondly.

Perfect timing, as always.

Others will be here soon enough, and hopefully that will deter Sherlock from just barging in.

He checked the room with a final glance. Everything is set. He picked up a deceptively innocuous bottle and lied down calmly.

After he tipped the bottle and swallowed the clean liquid, he arranged his already numbing hands on his torso neatly. As the numbing spread and blissful silence of nothingness surrounded him, he was finally able to smile peacefully.

He never heard the crash of his front door and desperate cry of his name.

======

The first car contained Sherlock’s mother, father, and Anthea.

“Sherlock? John? Did Mycroft ask you to come as well?” Mummy asked with a confused expression as she couldn’t come up with a reason why Mycroft would have wanted John to come.

“Why are you here, Mummy?” Sherlock asked sharply without answering her question. Something is not right, he can feel it, and Anthea’s neutral expression starts to contain some unease as well. She must have thought nothing is out of order since there were several times Mycroft asked her to pick up their parents.

“He asked us last week to come today to discuss something… what is it, Sherlock?” Mummy must be starting to feel uneasy as well, with her body language and voice getting tense. Sherlock didn’t pay her any more attention seeing the other two car produced their passengers.

Molly and Lestrade from one car. What are they doing here? What could Mycroft possibly want from these collection of people? Anthea’s expression showed that she did not arrange those cars to be here. That means Mycroft didn’t want her to know. That can’t be good. At all.

He could see Anthea reached the same conclusion as they exchanged tense glances. And Mycroft still didn’t answer the door.

Mummy and dad looked confused and unease – they do know their children to some extent after all -, John looked slightly worried, Molly and Lestrade didn’t seem to know they were going to come here and now looked worried and awkward.

Sherlock was ready to tear down the door and Anthea must have felt the same, as she didn’t say another word and just procured a set of keys.

He tried to refrain from kicking the door open since there obviously are keys and most of the locks won’t be susceptible to human force anyway. But then occupants of the final car got out of the car.

Doctor. Middle aged. Familiar with high profile clients. No bags to indicate a house call. Solicitor. He met him once when Mycroft made him sign things regarding his trust funds. Carrying a briefcase containing confidential files.

He didn’t even try to take any more information from them. Their occupation and Anthea’s white face told it all.

He didn’t wait for suddenly still and white as sheet Anthea to finish open the door with the keys. The ones that would have been impossible to break with human force are open, and only the basic lock is left. He aimed his kick right on the remaining lock, successfully breaking the door down.

“Sherlock!” He heard startled cries of John, Lestrade, and Mummy in the background, but didn’t pay any attention as he ran in calling Mycroft. Anthea was just behind him.

He ran straight to Mycroft’s bedroom, suppressing a chill running through his back at the too still and silent house, even with all the invited intruders running through the hall.

Soon the fast runners, him, Anthea, John and Greg, reached the bedroom door which was slightly ajar and warm light glowing through.

They halted in front of the door for a split second, as nobody wanted to see what was waiting on the other side of the door. Until John, brave and least involved John, pushed open the door. Sherlock couldn’t breathe as the door started to open smoothly.

It was bare. His brain started to catalogue everything he sees automatically. The furniture were warm earthy colors with elegant carvings, but they were so few and sparse in such a big room. There were few personal items on the view, making the room seems like impersonal amd temporary lodging rather than a home.

Then, before any other information could get processed, Sherlock noticed that in the middle of a big, white and comfortable looking bed, lay Mycroft, in his favorite three piece suit.

Sherlock temporarily thought his previous assumption was wrong. Mycroft’s lips and neatly folded fingertips still held slightest shade of pink. Still held the illusion of circulation.

He wanted to emit a relieved sigh, shout at Mycroft for scaring them, snark at him about getting his lazy ass up to greet his guests. But then, then, he noticed the rapidly fading color of pink and lack of respiration. His chest was not moving.

Sherlock froze on the door, not understanding the data he received, and not wanting to believe the received data.

John, a soldier and a doctor, rushed to the bed with professionalism and tried to find a pulse.

“There must’ve been a pulse just moments ago. Is there an AED in the house? Call an ambulance!” John shouted as he tried to climb on the bed to perform a CPR.

“There’s no need John,” He was talking. He was talking? What is he saying? Sherlock couldn’t hear his own words with blood rushing through his ears. “He obviously drank poison. Custom made, considering the bottle used. I’d say Mycroft himself made it. There won’t be a way he could be revived if that’s the case. He doesn’t make a mistake. He obviously posed for us like that, he won’t appreciate you wrinkling his suit.”

Dull. Dull. Of course Mycroft would frown at the wrinkled sheet. His wrinkled suit after CPR? More so. If the ribs are broken? He would be furious. How could John not know it? It’s obvious. Mycroft’s tie and sock choice tells enough-

Sherlock broke out from his thought at Anthea’s sharp clap.

“Dr. Watson, please refrain from performing CPR and wrinkling his suit. I agree with Sherlock, there won’t be a way for him to revive him. He won’t have left a way.” Anthea was starting to looking gray instead of white even if her voice didn’t shook noticeably.

John stared at them incredulously. “He did. Recently. Or did you forget so soon?”

“There’s no AED in the house, Dr. Watson. I tried to call ambulance as soon as I saw Dr. Bennet, but the signal is jammed. I received a notification that my satellite phone won’t be working for 30 minutes under his request. There just isn’t a way to make him breathe until we could get help. And we don’t know what the poison is. We don't have an antidote.”

After Anthea’s words, Sherlock belatedly noticed the presence behind him. Mummy, father, Molly, doctor and solicitor. They all look shocked. Mummy and father more so.

Why? Why are they shocked? Because Mycroft is just lying there? Without greeting? Mycroft’s lack of manners? Oh right. Because Mycroft is dead. Suicide. Killed himself, with customized poison, administered just before their arrival, or even right after their arrival–. Dead. Not breathing. Bluing lips. Dead. Like countless corpses he saw at the morgue and crime scenes. Dead.

Sherlock blinked as there suddenly was a pair of arms on his waist. Lestrade and Molly. Why are they holding him? Holding? Oh, he was in immediate danger of falling forward. Catching him before he could. He should thank them. Maybe now.

There was a gentle throat cleaning behind all of them. “I didn’t expect this situation when Mr. Holmes asked for a consultation today… but he has papers indicating that he doesn’t want any life-support system or CPR. If you are able, Dr. Watson, time of death?” The doctor spoke gently.

John said something, probably the declaration of time of death, but he couldn’t understand a thing. He heard his mother roaring beside him, though. Crying. Shouting. Why is she crying? Right, Mycroft died. Dead. Without life, in front of them.

Sherlock didn’t know how much time passed, but he found himself seated in one of the chair that were propped up in the bedroom. Eight of them. Too much for bedroom, exact number of guests except the doctor that must have left at some point. Mycroft prepared this. Obviously.

Mummy and father were still crying. Anthea was obsessively arranging the wrinkled sheet with red eye and trembling hands. Molly and John looked sad. Lestrade looked ill. Solicitor was holding a letter. Letter.

“That’s his letter.” Sherlock’s voice croaked. He doesn’t know why. Maybe he was crying as well? He doesn't know. His word got attentions from others, and the volume of cries decreased a little.

Solicitor coughed uncomfortably for a second. “Yes, Mr. Holmes changed his will about three weeks ago, and he expressed the possibility of the letter for those who would still be living after he is gone.”

As Sherlock extended his hand, he added hastily, “And he also expressed that he wants me to read it before the will. I brought his will today, he said he wanted to check certain clause…” He looked slightly uncomfortable, clearly not used to dealing with the grieving family with his dead client’s body present.

Sherlock mutely let his arm go limp, and solicitor opened the letter and started reading it after clearing his throat.

_Hello,_

_Mummy, Father, Gregory, Dr. Hooper, Dr. Watson, Anthea, and brother mine._

_I imagine you will be seating beside me while this letter is read with my suit unwrinkled. I took meticulous precautions to prevent any emission of bodily fluids after my death, so my bed should be clean enough unless Dr. Watson insisted on performing CPR on me. I hope Sherlock and Anthea prevented that. They know me well enough to know it will be futile anyway._

_Ah yes, the reason I wrote this letter is to say goodbye. Any other attempts would have been resulted in Anthea, Elizabeth or Gregory trying to prevent this from happening, so I must express my regret for not saying goodbye in person._

_There are several reasons you are here and me dead today. I know I disappointed you, Mummy, Father. I know you don’t like having me in your life, Sherlock. But I know you don’t dislike me enough to want me_ dead _, so rest assured that I did not commit suicide due to misguided notion of doing you a favor to spare you of killing me yourself._

_Firstly, it is Eurus. Sherlock, she would have let you pull that trigger. She was petulant that you decided against choosing between me or Dr. Watson and tried to point the gun at your head, but she was going to let you. And I couldn’t let that happen. So I offered myself. Again. She much preferred you shooting me, but she still preferred me dying than you, Sherlock. We had an agreement around you reached 4, and we got out of there alive that day. She stuck to our bargain by informing where Dr. Watson is, I heard. It’s my turn to stick to my end of the deal._

_Speaking of Sherringford, I would like to apologize for my behavior during that day, Sherlock. And Dr. Watson. In my defense, I couldn’t have done anything more. My sole purpose of being there was for me to die at the final problem. You know I visited her several times a year, with or without problems for her to solve. She knows me well enough to factor most of my reaction to the game. And I know her to some extent as well. She was giving me warnings throughout the whole debacle. I refrained from doing anything more useful than I did that day, and one time I didn’t heed the warning, you saw what happened to the governor’s wife. I am sorry that I couldn’t beat her in the game and make that day more manageable for you._

_Also, I want to apologize for not believing you when you said you and Dr. Watson met Eurus, Sherlock. There’s a reason I didn’t believe she had any kind of access to the outside world, even after Moriarty’s supposed return. Because, well, I was the one splashed that video. I told you that assignment will last 6 months before you die, brother mine. That was for the agent with your capacity without my help. With my help, I estimate the length of the assignment would have lasted 9 months. After that, we would most likely have been on the crossroads; me extracting you from the assignment with legitimate reason, which was very unlikely, or you faking another death to disappear, or letting you be the casualty of the assignment. Using Moriarty even before you reach your destination was the most sensible course of action._

_It did the job nicely, but it also prevented me from visiting Eurus after that to clean up the mess. which led her to use that time to take over the prison, unfortunately. So, I didn’t have a reason to believe Eurus was roaming around the London freely. But I should have listened to you and placed my faith more on you, which would have prevented the sorrow of the day and the deaths. I am sorry for my lack of faith to your word, brother mine. I was arrogant with my precautions even when I know how dangerous she can be, and placed my faith on those than on your words. I hope you can forgive me of it someday._

_Secondly, my death would ensure Eurus’ and Sherlock’s lives. Sherlock, you proved yourself with the cases I asked you to solve and the government knows your value. They would need your brain and legwork from time to time, ensuring you some leeway and their protection to some extent due to that. Admittedly less than before, but that level of security will require my presence and I know you would rather die than have me watch over you forever, brother mine. I know I have been overprotective, with suitable reasons I'd like to think, but I also know you have resented me for that. Especially since you didn’t know the said reason. I hope my removal would give you satisfactory freedom as well as some level of protection._

_In Eurus’ case, contrary to Sherlock, she won’t be alive for more than 15 months from now on if I didn’t die today. There already were concerned voices regarding her volatile nature, and it won’t be long before they find a way behind my back to remove the threat. I imagine it would be an assassination disguised as a revenge. But with me dead and without access to my brain, they will need her alive just in case they will need her brain. She is not talking, yes, but she is reacting to Sherlock, so they will hope they could use her to solve problems somehow. Which will ensure extra layer of safety to you, brother mine. Currently you are the only one she is reacting to, and they will expect you to translate in the middle when the time comes._

_Thirdly, I am not needed anymore. For the first time since Victor, I am positive that I don’t have to worry constantly for Sherlock to be alive and happy. After staying sober and started consulting Scotland yard, I saw a hope. Thanks to Gregory, you finally acquired a purpose and a healthier mean to silence your mind. Soon after that Dr. Hooper, Mrs. Hudson, and Dr. Watson came. You found yourself a family and friends you can rely on. I am positive that they will watch out for you as they did in the past, even though there were a few hiccups, which I believe_ won’t happen again _. After Moriarty and Magnussen, there won’t be someone with that much power for some time. I hope those experiences and the time will let you learn to be more cautious and careful. I am betting on Mrs. Watson’s presence for you to be less reckless than before, and I am positive that that is the case according to lack of serious incidents for a month without my security following you. It was a test run and you proved yourself that you don't need me anymore. Mummy was right. You are a grown up now with your own circle of people, and you don’t need me to look out for your every step with baited breath._

_Eurus wanted to take a revenge out of me for taking you away from her. Since you are giving her an attention she wanted and got her revenge by me being dead, I believe she won’t be a threat to you anymore. It was one of the biggest fear for me besides your drug, and I am thankful that both are managed to allowable level. But Sherlock, when you visit her next week as scheduled, please be careful. There is no way she won’t know of my suicide, and I am not sure what her reaction will be. I don’t think her current silence and retreat is one of her game, but please be on alert to notice if anything is amiss._

_Finally, I always knew me dying on my own hand was my most likely way to go. I believe I managed to conceal it from everyone, but it is not a novel concept to me. Very old, in fact. I’m afraid I cannot give you the exact point I decided it, though. Maybe around Victor. Maybe before._

_But it may not be a surprise to you, Sherlock. You know how it is like to live with our brain. Constant input of information, noise, and_ people _. I taught you how to regulate the information input, read to you when there was nothing but meaningless and redundant input, and limited or provided sensory stimulation to make it bearable for your brain in immobile baby body. Let’s just say I had firsthand experience to know the signs to provide those things. I remember many occasions of Mother and Father taking me to hospital when I didn’t stop crying due to mind-numbing boredom or too much sensory input. I must have been a nightmare to them when I was a toddler, and I want to apologize for that, Mummy, Father. I think that was one of the reasons why we have 7 years of age gap come to think of it._

_Anyway, it was unbearable for several years before I found a way to manage my brain on some level. You must remember that I once likened general population as goldfish, Sherlock. They see the information but does not notice anything more than fraction of it and let it pass through them, just like goldfish expelling the inhaled water through its gill. We, on the other hand, are not fish. We could not breathe in the stream of information and could not expel the information we drank in, getting drowned slowly. It's agonizing, especially before I constructed mind palace and learned how to delete unnecessary information. And I just didn’t want to go on, swimming endlessly without any real break or purpose. The only thing that kept me alive was to keep you safe, brother dear. Now that I can be relatively sure that you will be fine, I could finally rest. Furthermore, my death could ensure yours and Eurus’ safety, which is more than I could have wanted our of my death._

_Those are the reasons I decided to take my life today. Eurus deduced correctly that I would die on my own without her pointing a gun at Sherlock, which is why she allowed me a month to arrange her an airtight imprisonment and organize necessary things. A month was enough to arrange everything, and our family visit to Eurus last week ensured me that it’s time. My continued existence might provoke retreated Eurus to emerge once more, after all._

_The reason I made you come here right after my suicide is to prevent you having any doubts of this being faked for some grand scheme of things. We Holmes had too much of that to dismiss that possibility without hard evidence. I designed the poison for me to be presentable after my death, except for a lack of color, so I hope seeing the corpse up close won’t traumatize you badly. Thankfully, most of you are well acquainted with one, so I am glad to say that I am positive of it._

_I could’ve just rendered myself brain dead to donate my organs, but I am pretty sure my body would have been miraculously disappeared to undergo some unnamed experiments, if I did that. I don’t want flowers on my funeral, but I would like my body to be there, hence my selfish choice of the poison._

_Now, my reasons behind my will. I left something for everyone here, as well as Mrs. Hudson and little Ms. Watson. I hope it could help you in one way or the other._

_Mummy, I left every book in my library related to Mathematics and physics. I already sorted it out and boxed them up. I didn’t include any books that are already in your home. Father, I left my pocket watches, cuff links, and tiepins for you. Also, hefty sum of money is left on both of you. Considering your current way of life, I imagine it will be more than enough to sustain your expenses for the rest of your life. I also arranged a fund to compensate the expense of keeping Eurus on Sherringford, as well as transport fee for your visits. They won’t be able to prevent you from visiting with money as an excuse._

_I am sorry for keeping Eurus’ survival from you, Mumny, Father. I know I should have kept more watchful eyes on Sherlock, Victor, and Eurus back then. I am sorry I failed to prevent the sorrow of Trevor family, and I am sorry I couldn’t do anything more to make Eurus less volatile. I agreed with Uncle Rudy that she would have killed at least one of us if she remained, so I didn’t try to persuade him to give her back when I noticed he was lying about her being dead. I don’t regret that, but I wish I was more capable at making our family work. I tried my best, but I am sorry that it was not enough. I know you didn't forgive me about it yet and I understand. I hope you can forgive my insufficiency someday._

_Antha, I leave this house to you. I know you overworked for past thirteen years to meet my demand, and now thinking of settling down with your significant other. I also know that they are interested in manor house like this, looking forward to maintenance works it entails. Sherlock is not interested in it in the least, and my parents already have a house, so please don’t refuse my gift. It is a thank you for your years of excellent work for me and your loyalty towards me. You could consider it as my wedding gift as well. I arranged a cleanup crew a week after today. It will be enough for my belongings to be distributed under my will._

_Also, you are the only one who know my filing system. I organized all the information I have neatly, yes, but they will need you to access those information if they want it fast enough. It will give you some time to decide what you want to do. You could find another PA position, there is a recommendation letter on my office desk, or you could start your own career similar to mine, or you could rest a while. I left you some money as well. Not much, just enough so that you won’t refuse it._

_I am sorry for the grief this will cause you. You have been a very loyal and trustworthy friend, as well as more than competent PA one could only dream for. Especially for someone in our line of work, where trust is hard to gain but essential. I look back of our times together fondly, and I have faith that you could overcome this ordeal. I wish you a happy life, Anthea._

_Gregory, I am sure Sherlock would have died long before Dr. Watson came into his life if it wasn’t for you. I know I was not stern enough for my brother of his drug habits because I understand it too well that he was just trying to silence his mind. He was on his way of killing himself with drugs, yes, but I was pretty sure that he would have killed himself right away if not for the drug. He didn’t have a particularly good reason to stay alive unlike me. So I am eternally thankful for your open-mindedness at hearing what junkie has to say and yoir endless patience dealing with him._

_I put in some words in Scotland yard, discretely I might add, about you. Nothing significant, just enough to put you in the good book of higher ups. Without any drastic incidence, your job and work won’t be hindered by petty politics. I know you don’t want any unfair promotion, so I didn’t do more than smoothing your path. For you personally, I left my sci-fi and mystery collection. It is all boxed up in the library as well. It’s not much, so I imagine it would be able to fit in your flat. I also left you a small sum of money. Take it, you will need it for the things Sherlock will snatch from you and rough patches he will put you through in the future. I foresee some months’ worth of cut paychecks due to him._

_Gregory, I also know you came to regard me as some distant friend after all the meetings beside Sherlock’s hospital beds and occasional inquiry. Friendship in Holmesian style, I imagine you would think. You have such a big heart to consider me one, and I am honored to earn a friendship from noble and loyal man like you. Rest assured that I did regard our relationship closer than what I had with most of the others. I am sorry for the grief I caused you because of my death, and I hope your big heart could move on relatively easily after this. I also hope that you would look out for Sherlock in the future. I know you will even without my request, but I wanted to ask you for it and say thank you for your answer. Thank you, Gregory, for looking after my brother. I wish you a happy life as well._

_Dr. Watson, I am thankful for your care for my brother. I left trust fund for Ms. Watson and you. It will last till her university if she chose to, and ensure you and your daughter’s comfortable life. However, I took some precautions. Please understand that even if Sherlock puts trust in you, I am slightly wary after last time. It is a mere precaution, and I hope you won’t take offense by it. Exact terms will be explained after my funeral. Please look after Sherlock, Dr. Watson._

_Dr. Hooper, I am thankful for your loyalty to Sherlock. All the body parts you provided to distract Sherlock from boredom, your undoubtedly essential help to dismantle Moriarty’s network, and your friendship Sherlock could rely on. I know he appreciate your presence even if he does not express it. At all. We talked a few times during Sherlock’s absence, and I knew lying to your friends and worrying about Sherlock was taking tolls on you. But it was necessary, so all I can do is to express my gratitude for your cooperation and care you showed for Sherlock one more time. Also, I am sorry for my sister’s cruelty. I am glad that there was no real bomb on your flat to threaten your life._

_I arranged my equipment to be donated in St. Bart’s morgue. I bought it for my personal use, but you will see that they are quite impressive collection. You will have unlimited access to them as well as my brother. You are a talented doctor, and I hope it will help your work._

_Sherlock. William. Lokie. Brother mine. I… am not sure what to say to you. Obviously, I would have to start with apologies. I am sorry for not being able to prevent Eurus taking Victor away from you, Sherlock. I should have watched you three more closely that day than I did. I was responsible for your safety, and I failed. I am sorry. I am glad you found Victor’s remains after all these years to give Trevor family a closure. After Victor, you were so traumatized that my sweet and loving little brother became cold and distant to the world. It was never proved and we didn’t tell you, but you must have unconsciously known that Eurus was behind the disappearance, which made you trying to distance yourself from everyone. After Eurus was taken away, you even deleted the whole presence of Eurus and Victor. I noticed it before you finished the process, but I didn’t prevent it because I foolishly hoped that maybe my sweet brother will be back if you erase them. You didn’t. But you were still my little brother, Sherlock. You still asked me questions and curious about everything. I don’t regret not restoring your memory then. I didn’t think it wise to make a child to confront a traumatizing event he voluntarily erased and I still don’t. But maybe I could’ve told you some time later. Not during your drug days, obviously, but maybe after you are sober and more balanced. It would have prevented Sherringford event at least._

_I also am sorry for not finding a way to make you drop your drug habit sooner. As I said to Gregory, I couldn’t be harsh to you about it when I understood why. Regardless of any other rebellious emotions, traumas, or any plethora of possible reasons, I knew first and foremost reason was to manage your mind. To be able to break through the surface of the stream and just_ breathe _. I must admit that I was tempted as well seeing their effect on you. Blissful silence and calmness of our minds, even for a short while with great side effects. That is the primary reason for my suicide as well, after all. However, understanding your reason aside, I couldn’t let you die. And I am grateful that cases could keep your mind occupied and keep you away from the hard drugs, brother dear._

_But you need to find other means as well. I imagine you will be less reckless than before, due to your decreased celebrity status or Ms. Watson. I am glad that there will be less risk, but it will bring back boredom and temptation. So please find other means to silence your mind, Sherlock. I left several things that worked to some extent for me. Not much and not for long, but enough to keep me alive until now. I hope some works on you as well, brother mine._

_I am sorry for not dealing with Moriarty on my own, little brother. I didn’t notice Eurus’ game and she constructed enough web to make it hard for me to just remove him. I would have just killed him myself if I had known it will cost your two year’s life and make you do things you had to do, consequences be damned. I cannot express how much I regret those times, Sherlock. Please believe me that worrying over your lack of communication during operation after operation was my personal hell._

_I am sorry for Magnussen incident as well. I would like to say that he made it hard for me to make any hasty move, but it was unacceptable that you had to take the risk just because I didn’t want you to use me. I_ was _setting up a trap for him, which regretfully didn’t get finished before you took your action because others were not helping while he was behaving. And he was behaving because… well, he wanted me too much to make others help me. And yes, I meant ‘want’ in sexual term. Even though the act itself would have been just an ultimate show of dominance, I think. Anyway, he made his purpose clear to those with power to deter them from stopping his ‘harmless flirting’, his words not mine, and even got some of them to help him. Apparently, there were more than a few who wanted to see me humiliated._

 _So I was setting up a careful trap on my own, and I didn’t want you to get involved. Besides the fact that he would have used you ruthlessly, I was pretty sure you would have dangled me in front of him to beat his game if you have known the whole fact. Don’t deny it, Sherlock, you already drugged me and took my laptop when you thought that was what he wanted. Which contained nothing more than a secure line of access, I might add. Magnussen had everything in his head. What made you think_ I _would have anything useful laying around outside my brain? Like his glasses, it was just a prop. But I should have known he will involve you anyhow on his own. There literally is no other pressure point for me for him to let you just be. He must have felt like Christmas when he knew about late Mrs. Watson. Therefore, I am sincerely sorry for not foreseeing that and dragging you into his power game towards me, little brother. I couldn’t have been able to forgive myself if you had to go through any more assignments after Moriarty, and this was a suicide mission from the start. I much prefer to let him rape me than to send you to that assignment. I knew he wouldn’t have damaged me severely for future use, after all. Thank god I succeeded in making fake Moriarty within a week before your departure._

_There are so many other things I would have to and would like to apologize about, brother mine. But the letter already got too long, so I would just say that I am sorry for not able to be a good big brother for you, Sherlock. I hope my removal from your life, precautions I made and the things I left for you could be a start to condone my insufficiency._

_I left some money to Mrs. Hudson. It will cover your rent for a decade and possible renovations she might need with you as a tenant. I left everything else for you, brother mine. I boxed all of it meticulously throughout the house and you can find the list on my library. You can do whatever you want to do with it. I hope you will find my laboratory delightful as well as my notes. All big equipments were donated to St. Bart's for your use, but there are still a few left you might want to take it with you. You can’t do the experiment with Ms. Watson on the flat, so I recommend you renting a space solely for your experiment and set up your own laboratory there. I left more than enough money for that. And don’t be surprised of the expends I spent on my laboratory, brother mine. You know you took on chemistry because I was interested in it on the firsthand. I imagine I would have been a chemist if I didn’t need to be who I am now to ensure Eurus’ and your safety._

_Look after yourself and please don’t throw yourself so readily on harm’s way, Sherlock. I sincerely hope you live a healthy and happy life, brother dear. May my precautions and my belongings help you with that._

_Forgive me for the length of the letter. Looks like sentiment finally got a hold of me as I am saying goodbye for the last time._

_I arranged my funeral, Mummy. You can find the related paperwork on my library. I think I took care of everything, but if I overlooked something, I am sure Anthea could take care of it. I would say sorry for giving you more work even after being dead, Anthea, but I know you would't see it that way so let me just thank you in advance._

_I am sending my messages to you right now, brother mine. I hope you will come without much protest. If I timed it right, I will be drinking the poison just as you rang the bell. I am glad that I could finally go into peaceful slumber and never have to deal with the stream again._

_Goodbye, Mother, Father, Anthea, Gregory, Dr. Hooper, Dr. Watson. And brother mine. My end came earlier than you thought and much later than I thought, but I hope your lives are long and kind for you from now on._

_No flowers, my request_

_Mycroft Holmes_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will add one more chapter of the reaction of gathered people. Any feedbacks or comments appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

It took some time to read the whole letter. It was long, and there were frequent interruptions by sobbing.

When the letter was over, there were only stunned silence and silent cries for a long time. They didn’t have any energy left to cry out loud. Sherlock felt like he would faint any moment.

“He….” Sherlock whispered hoarsely.

“Yes?” John, whose hand is gripping his elbow – when did that happen? – in an attempt to be comforting, asked.

“He only apologized for Anthea and Lestrade.” Sherlock thinks he will definitely faint soon with the spinning of his head.

“Sherlock.. you heard he apologized for,” John started, but Sherlock continued not hearing John’s words. “He apologized for his suicide only to Anthea and Lestrate. To their loss. As if… as if the remaining others won’t grieve for him.”

At that, Mummy broken down once more and Sherlock didn't know if he fainted or not. Maybe he did. The next time he was aware of his surroundings, seven of them minus the solicitor were gathered on Mycroft’s seating area. There was a cold cup of tea in his hands. He doesn’t know where and when did that come from.

“Congratulation on your engagement, Anthea.” Sherlock whispered dully.

“Thank you. Beth will love this house as he said. I know he was careful not to out me, but I don’t mind.” Anthea whispered back. Her makeup was more than smudged and she was pale like a wax. She attempted to drink a tea for her parched throat but her trembling hands seems to have a different idea.

Anthea spoke up again after a long silence. “I knew he was not particularly fond of his life, but I didn’t know he was…”

“…Suicidal. Yeah, me neither.” Lestrade finished her sentence. His voice shook and he looked like he would break down any moment.

“You have a crush on him,” Sherlock stated. Deductions. Deductions are easy. Deductions are safe area.

Lestrade barked a single hallow laugh. “Thank you for outing me, Sherlock. He tried not to give it away, you know. Sexuality-wise and feeling-wise. But yes, I did. I didn’t act on it, but of course he knew. Foolish of me to think that I succeeded in hiding it.” He tried to twitch his lips to resemble a smile, but he failed. “It is hard to see him as The Iceman when you meet him beside your hospital bed, Sherlock. I got the impression that he won’t survive if you died. Did you know that I thought he was your husband at first when I heard his name was Mycroft _Holmes_?” He succeeded in twitching his lips a bit this time. “That’s one of the reasons why I thought you faked your death with Moriarty, you know. He lost weight, suffered, and looked grieving, but he was _alive_.”

They lapsed into a silence once more. This time, it was John who broke the silence.

“Did he really cried that much as a baby…?”

“Oh, yes, he cried most of his waking moments when he was an infant. We were worried sick that he was crying so much so that he passed out by exhaustion almost daily, and doctors just kept saying he was physically fine every time we took him to the hospitals. It lasted till he could move around on his own and read things. Even then, he cried often and looked like he was in pain most of the time. He’s right, that was why we were wary for another child for a few years and we even prepared to hire a doctor when we had Sherlock. Sherlock was not an easy baby as well, but My... Mycroft was always with him when he cried and was able to calm him down. That’s why we tried one more so soon after…” Father answered John in trembling voice, but couldn’t seem to finish as Eurus comes up.

“I don’t think I can visit her next week.” Sherlock thinks he might strangle Eurus or at least throw up if he sees her next time.

Anthea sharply looked up at that. “You should. She let you three go because she finally got your attention.”

“She let us go because she got what she wanted! Mycroft killing himself…!”

“What’s the difference?” Anthea’s tone was icy, not sparing any. “You already knew she wanted to kill him. By you, the one he cared most. I’m pretty sure it would have been him instead of Victor Trevor all those years ago if Mycroft was susceptible to her manipulation. You were close to Victor, I heard, but I also heard that you were closer to Mycroft. She wanted him dead since she was five. she still wanted him dead and nearly succeeded a month ago. You knew this and you still visited her to connect with her. The only change is that she was more successful than everyone thought. As I said, what’s the difference?”

Anthea was expressing her resentment toward Sherlock openly for the first time during their long acquaintance, and Sherlock couldn’t feel aggravated by it. She was angry for Mycroft's sake.

“You will go, because you cannot afford her being volatile again to get your attention. You might actually die this time, and Mycroft would be devastated if you does. If that is not a good enough reason to you, you know she will go after Ms. Watson next time. You _cannot_ afford to stop visiting Sherringford.”

Sherlock couldn't come up with a good answer to that, and Mummy and Father seemed less than keen on defending Eurus this time.

After tense silence due to the amount of venom in Anthea's voice, Lestrade cleared his throat. “I didn’t know he wanted to be a chemist.”

“He did,” This was the first time Mummy said anything after they entered the house. It sounded so faint that it might get extinguished with only the barest wind. “When he was young and before Rudy took him in. I just thought his dream changed while growing up like any other kids…” She looked like someone who wants to cry more, but doesn’t have any water left for an extra teardrop. Maybe she was crying but it's not visible to the others due to her swollen eyes and excessively wet face. She looked broken and ancient.

“I did,” Molly said in a timid voice, and everyone looked at her with surprise. She gulped. “Um, Mr. Holmes and I talked a few times during Sherlock’s death, he even bought me a couple of dinners for it… um, anyway, we didn’t have many things to talk about, so we talked about chemistry and his own experiments… I didn’t think anything about it because I knew you like to experiment as well, Sherlock. He seemed so successful in his career, so I just thought he chose one of the two occupation he wanted to do and did the other on his free time.”

Anthea nodded at Molly’s explanation. “I suspected. I didn’t know the fact that the career wasn’t his choice from the start and that he wanted to be a chemist, but it was clear to someone in my position that he stayed on the job only for Sherlock and nothing more. Not even the Queen or the country.”

“Did he… did Magnussen really…” Sherlock couldn’t wait anymore to ask the thing that kept nagging him, but couldn't find it in himself to finish the question. He felt sick just thinking about it.

Anthea nodded uncomfortably. “It was not a secret for those in the know. Mycroft considered it as just a power game, but I think it was slightly more than that. Magnussen wanted to break him and turn his devotion towards you to him. Own him completely, was the impression I got. It’s sick in any version of explanation, though.”

Everybody seemed to agree with her last assessment.

And after a bit, John voiced the question in everyone’s mind. “And would he really have let…”

Anthea’s expression tightened. After slight hesitation, she nodded. “I think so, yes. You heard his letter. Mycroft would have let him if it was a choice between sending Sherlock to the mission or that.”

John looked pale. Sherlock was more than ready to throw up. And that was why it took several more seconds for him to pick up extra information.

“It happened before.” Sherlock spoke without thinking before saying it. It didn’t come out as a question, but it didn’t need to be. He knew it was true as he voiced it.

“What!?” Mummy screamed hoarsely just as Anthea hissed, “Sherlock!”

Sherlock really thinks he is going to throw up, and must look like it too, considering the concerned expressions of the others while they individually looked sick and aghast as well.

He didn’t try to explain his deduction. He couldn’t with the bile in his throat, and he didn't know anything more. Everyone turned to Anthea.

Anthea looked hesitant more than before. Understandably. She fidgeted for several minutes before giving in. “He… I don’t know the exact… there was a rumor.”

“A rumor.” Lestrade intoned dully. Idiot. She just said that. Why is he repeating her when everyone heard her perfectly?

“He shot through the ranks and his codename was Antartica. There were more than enough people who envied him and wanted to break or humiliate him. After one or two failed attempts, some got competitive thinking he would be a particularly shining notch on their bedpost. It turned into a some sort of game and it was quite a common gossip among secret service back then: which higher up took interest in him this time and what did they do? Mycroft always handled it masterfully that _they_ got humiliated, and it was fun to talk about." Anthea admitted with slight shame.

"But about a couple of months before me becoming his PA, there was a rumor that one of the royal family took interest in him, and that he bragged about having a way to break the ice, so to speak. Nothing new, but it was the first time royal member was involved and I heard that he was particularly confident about it.”

Anthea was biting her lower lips. When she didn’t continue, Father prompted her with a pleading look. Anthea let out a heavy sigh and scrubbed her face.

“I figured it out only recently, but that was the year your brother died, Mrs. Holmes, and that particular royal member could have made Eurus Holmes executed without his protection. Mycroft wasn’t powerful enough back then.”

Sherlock buried his face on his hands. He could deduce what Mycroft did. He fervently hoped he was wrong.

Anthea swiped her tongue on her dry lips. It didn't do any good. “As far as I know, he staged the rape and reported it to the Queen. That royal member was removed swiftly soon after that.”

“Is it a common knowledge?” Sherlock mumbled. How could he have not known? Oh right, he probably was high on drugs back then. It must be a common knowledge for Anthea to talk about it, and he, the consulting detective, didn’t notice it.

“Yes... and no. Not everyone knows it for a fact, but as I said, there's a rumor. And he didn't particularly tried to stop the words from spreading. Only a very select few know the exact information. I know this much because he… tried to comfort me after the meeting with one of them who knew and wanted to use that to pressure him.”

“ _What_?” Sherlock couldn't believe his ears. If it wasn’t exactly a common knowledge, why did she tell us? Why did _he_ tried to comfort _her_?

“He said…” Anthea let out a shuddering sigh. “He said it was just an another form of pain he took to achieve his goal, not so different from getting shot at to apprehend the culprit. It was less painful than the torture or even a simple knife wound because that… _man_ didn’t want to damage him too much for the _future_ _use_.” Anthea spat the word man like it was the most offending word in the entire world. They could almost see the venom dripping from her teeth. "He also said that it was unpleasant and distasteful, but he doesn’t feel any more psychologically damaged by sexual violation than any other form of physical torture, so I need not worry or pity him.”

"Bullshit." Lestrade intoned as soon as she said that.

Anthea's lower lips were breaking and started to draw a blood with all the chewing. She took a sip from her teacup before continuing. "I don't know and could't understand how, but it was true to him. Others saw that as well and knew they couldn't use it against him. They stopped bringing it up shortly after seeing that, but it was enough to spread some rumors. When I reported the rumor, he was... pleasently surprised and satisfied that there is one more anecdote for people to regard him as The Iceman. They did, you know. People awed, feared, despised, and shook their head that even that kind of violation couldn't shook him. Now it is some kind of urban legend."

She drew in a shuddered breath before continuing. "He... he asked me to get Magnussen's hospital record to see if he has any severe STDs that would make him discard one of his possible course of action."

She whispered the last sentence into her cup, but everyone could hear it without problem because they were stunned into silence.

Nobody knew what to say, and Anthea's expression was combination of slight ease and soul-wrenching sadness.

"Did he...did he have his own life? He sounds like he didn't care anything other than keeping Sherlock safe, not even his own mental and physical health. I... I don't think that's healthy." Molly was biting her lips as well with sadness and awkwardness.

" _Of course_ it's not healthy. He _killed_ himself." Molly winced at Lestrade's tone. He scrubbed his face seeing her reaction. "Sorry. I... sorry. Yeah, I knew Sherlock was his center of universe, but I didn't know he was _the_ only thing in his universe. Now..." Lestrade shrug his shoulder helplessly without finishing his sentence.

Sherlock heard it anyway. "Do you think I wanted him _dead_!?" He screeched.

"What?! I didn't say that!" Lestrade denied it vehemently. "And I didn't think that either! I know you just want him gone from your life, not dead! I was going to say now he didn't have anything left in his universe anymore! Looks like he himself wasn't in it for a long time." Lestarde couldn't stop himself from sending a slight accusational glance to Mummy and Father.

Mummy and Father shrank under the weight of the glance.

"I didn't want him gone from my life!" Sherlock shouted.

There was a brief disbelieving silence at that. Anthea snorted.

"Oh really." Lestrade answered sarcastically.

"Sherlock, mate... You thought him useful with his influence and power, but I didn't get the impression that you wanted him in any more capacity than that..." John said carefully with slightly pained expression.

"I am actually surprised by your reaction. I thought you wouldn't care more than slight frown at all the things he couldn't do for you now." Anthea spat the words at Sherlock.

Sherlock wanted to scream. Throw the teacup in the wall and break it. Shoot something, preferably Magnussen one more time. Or that nameless royal member. Want to shake the hell out of Mycroft and ask what the hell he was thinking.

The last thought stopped him from doing any of that. It was obvious what he was thinking. He kindly laid out on his letter. It doesn't matter what others think, but obviously Mycroft thought so as well.

He disliked Mycroft sticking his nose on everything he does, yes, but that doesn't mean... "Do you... do you think he wouldn't have... If I had let him interfere more..." Sherlock whispered.

That quelled the venomous glare from Anthea. She started to bite her lips once more. "I... I don't know. If he thought his presence was essential for your survival, then definitely. That was the case till now after all. Your happiness, though... He didn't think his death will be detrimental to your happiness, that was sure, but if he had a reason to think that was the case then... maybe. Even if it meant his suffering. Even if he himself is unhappy."

Sherlock slumped at Anthea’s assessment. Who knew Mycroft better than anyone here. Including their parents and him.

"When was the last time he was truly happy?" Lestrade's seemingly innocent question caught everyone off guard.

"He... he was overjoyed when Sherlock's first word was Mycof." Father whispered.

"He did.. He smiled happily everytime Sherlock called him. Sherlock didn't say anything else for three and a half months. Just Mycof with various expressions and gestures. He didn't need to, Myc always knew what he wanted just from that..." Mummy buried her face in her hands at the memories.

Sherlock didn't remember that. He doesn't know if it was because of all the memories he deleted or just because he was so young. Maybe both.

"That was what, 8?" John asked in an incredulous tone. Could his suicide come as a surprise if 8 was the last time he was seen happy??

"He... he smiled happily at Sherlock until Victor... I just thought Eurus' death impacted heavily on him as well..." Mummy mumbled.

"Well, it did. He blamed himself for Eurus killing Victor. Since he was 13. For christ sake, he blamed himself for crying too much when he was a baby and making your life hard. And basically everything he couldn't have done because he was only a _human_." Lestrade shot up as soon as he's finished and retreated to the kitchen holding a teapot. He needed to calm down and he needed more tea. Or a drink. Or a bottle.

It was too much for his bleeding heart. Mycroft's letter saying every apologies showed complete lack of regard toward himself and nonexistent self-worth. He even thought he was being _selfish_ at not donating his organ because they won't be donated after all!

Lestrade reminded himself that they are grieving as well and got back with the fresh pot of tea. They were silent even after he replenished their cups.

Anthea cleared her throat after long and heavy silence. "I think we need to call someone for his bo.. body. Call his work to let them know the situation." Her phone chimed just as she said that. She smiled helplessly seeing the message. "Which he arranged beforehand, of course. There will be a crew coming in an hour. Notifications about his death are sent right now and I have to report back with the crew."

It was one more wake up call to let them know this is an actual situation. Now outside world will intervene and they will have to move on with the world, knowing Mycroft Holmes is actually, truly dead.

"Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Holmes. Mycroft told me that you were going to stay for a week with him. There must be a room ready for you, but I could arrange a car for your home if you want to go back till the funeral. Or I could arrange a hotel room if you rather not stay here. He included the date of funeral in his notification mail, it's four days from today." Anthea said in her best business tone. Working might occupy her mind enough to prevent her drowning in her sorrow.

Both of them nodded meekly in reflex. "Did he really arrange all his funeral..." Mummy whispered.

Anthea smiled tightly. It didn't even start to reach her eyes. "You know how he is Mrs. Holmes. He prefers to do everything himself."

"Was. How he was." Sherlock whispered faintly after all his silence.

Anthea's facade shattered for a moment at his words. She tried to hide it agian.

"I don't know if we knew him at all..." Father said brokenly, and Molly rather agreed with him secretly. Considering the letter and the reactions to it, she really doesn't think they knew Mr. Holmes at all.

Anthea's gaze was glued to her blackberry as usual, rapidly typing this and that. "Your car is arranged to arrive around the crew as well, Sherlock, Dr. Watson, Dr. Hooper, inspector. If you want to go before then, I could arrange you one. If you want to fresh up a bit, there are several washrooms on this level. I will send out the invitations for the funeral, if he didn't already appointed them that is, and let me know if you have any requirements. Cars, clothes, or such. I imagine Mycroft didn't arrange flowers to be there, so please refrain from bringing it. There will be enough from his _acquaintances_ ignoring his wish."

Turns out, there really wasn't anything Mycroft didn't arrange it beforehand. Anthea only checked if there were any hiccups in the process. There weren't.

Sadly, there were abundant of flowers at the funeral from all the politicians and acquaintences. The one who were invited to his deathbed didn't bring any.

Mycroft's will was read after it, and everyone accepted it without protest. He was excellent at knowing the bundaries, which wasn't a surprise.

He even arranged the headstone and the engraving to be done on the day before the funeral. It was made of sturdy stone with elegant but neat decoration, just like him. The engraving only contained the years he lived on earth and his name.

The body was cleaned and clothed with his chosen suit, brain donated as promised. His face still contained a peaceful smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now done! I really wanted to write a heart wrenchingly sad Mycroft. I hope you enjoyed it. Comments and kudos are appreciated!


End file.
